


Travelers

by psocoptera



Category: Chronin (Graphic Novels)
Genre: F/F, Time Travelling Lesbians, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:52:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21786871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psocoptera/pseuds/psocoptera
Summary: A conversation, back in the future.
Relationships: Mirai Yoshida (Chronin)/Hatsu (Chronin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5
Collections: Yuletide Madness 2019





	Travelers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lilith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilith/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide Lilith! I love Mirai and Hatsu so much, and it was a lot of fun to imagine a little bit of what their lives might be like back in 2045.
> 
> Thank you to my beta Carpenter.
> 
> Content note for brief mention of atomic bombs.

"Have you met any other time travelers?" Hatsu asks, one evening.

They're just finishing dinner - rotini with red sauce, and also cherry tomatoes. Hatsu has been obsessed with tomatoes ever since they let her start eating raw produce - apparently there were immunological questions - and is also fascinated by the pasta aisle and its profusion of shapes. She's not so big on garlic, but it turns out you can find no-garlic marinara if you look, and Mirai thinks it's not too bad with extra oregano.

"Uh," Mirai says intelligently. "I know most of the people in my program. Do you mean at other universities?"

"I'm sorry," Hatsu says. "I don't mean people born in your time. I mean people from further in the future, traveling back to study... now."

Mirai blinks at her. It's not the first time that Hatsu has said something that's shocked her - even if you don't count the times back in Japan, it's turned out that a lot of Mirai's assumptions are butter, and Hatsu's perspective is a knife. Or possibly a samurai sword. Still, this one feels... even bigger than usual, subject and object swapping topsy-turvy.

"Haha," Mirai says. "I don't... know? No? I guess they would keep it a secret, like we were supposed to do?"

"Nobody in my time knew time travel was possible," Hatsu says, starting to gather up their plates and cups. "But here in your time everyone knows." She stands and turns towards the kitchen; Mirai grabs the serving bowls and follows.

"We save a lot more data than you did," Mirai says, thinking out loud. "I mean, now? This era? We keep so many more records, and recordings, I don't know if there would be the same questions. The same gaps to fill in."

Hatsu sets the dishes down in the sink, then turns to Mirai with the world's most dubious expression. "Mirai. You didn't get in that machine because of gaps. You came back to us because of your books, because you wanted to experience it. You don't think there's someone in the future who watched your video pictures and fell in love with _this_ time? Someone who would study your language for the chance to walk on the streets of New York?"

She always pronounces New York very carefully. Sometimes Mirai thinks that when she stops, that will be the sign that she finally feels at home.

"I guess," Mirai says. She sets the serving bowls down on the counter next to the sink, bringing her a step closer to Hatsu.

"Besides," Hatsu says, turning back to the sink and running a small amount of water over the dishes, "You don't know what will survive. Records get lost. Maybe some things nobody writes down."

She reaches for the soap bottle, and washes her hands; she never loads the dishwasher because she says her mother always moves everything she puts in there anyways. Mirai has explained that this is not uncommon between housemates in 2045, and is not necessarily meant as a commentary on who's adapting faster to automated appliances, but she's not sure Hatsu believes her. (Mirai loaded the dishwasher the first few times, demonstrating, but now both Hatsu and her mother insist that she's a guest and one of them should do it. Mirai had sort of felt that Hatsu and her mother were _her_ guests, more fundamentally, but she can see why they want a place where they can flip that dynamic, and if they're feeling comfortable enough in the little university-provided visiting-scholar apartment to claim ownership, that seems like a good thing.)

"So if they do have gaps, why not just ask questions? My mother and I have interviews booked for months with people who have questions for us, because now that we're here, nobody has to be subtle with us. They can just ask. But we're just two people. Time travelers from your future could ask everybody. Easier than spying."

"Huh," Mirai says, maneuvering around her to wash her own hands at the sink. "I guess I would have no idea if sometimes when I take an online survey it was actually set up by people from the future. Wild."

They digress for a few minutes while Mirai explains about opinion surveys, sampling bias, and a little bit about the relationship of polling to politics, ending up as they often do on the couch with Mirai pulling up examples on her tablet, until Hatsu pushes it away, smiling and shaking her head over too many new words at once.

"I think if someone admitted they were from the future we would pester them too much," Mirai says, going back to their earlier conversation. "Everyone would want to know, who wins this election, when will they do something about this problem, do we survive." She looks down at her hands. "Maybe nobody comes back because we don't."

Hatsu takes her hand. "I know there's a lot I don't know yet about the future," she says. "But I know Japan has been at peace for one hundred years, and after using them on us nobody else has ever used those radiation bombs for war. If your world can make it this far, I think you can make it far enough for some little Mirai to want to get to dress up in _jeans_."

"Ah, yes," Mirai says. "The great romance of modern New York. Jeans."

"I like them on you," Hatsu says. And then, in English, slyly, "You look goood."

"Oh god, who taught you that," Mirai says. She can feel herself blushing. "Kuji. Obviously. Oh god."

"He also says to tell you he won't bring my mother back until after 10," Hatsu says, going back to Japanese. "They are going to a - folk concert?"

"That sounds nice," Mirai says. She's probably as red as the tomatoes. "So we have the apartment for awhile. Is what you're saying."

"Yes," Hatsu says. She shifts on the couch, bringing herself closer to Mirai, lifting her chin expectantly. "So."

"So," Mirai says. This is still new - there were always people around, when Hatsu and her mother were in quarantine, and when they wouldn't let them leave the campus. Someone was always coming in, or kicking Mirai out, and she's still not entirely sure they weren't being spycammed. Being able to lean in, like this... to find Hatsu's mouth, like this, and not expect to have to stop at any second... it's as exciting as the first time Mirai stepped onto the platform.

Time-traveling at a second per second, Mirai explores the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts about time travel influenced/inspired by _The Future of Another Timeline_ , which I see you also liked, yay!
> 
> It didn't occur to me until I was writing this that 2045 is exactly 100 years after the end of WWII, maybe not a coincidence?
> 
> Tomatoes had been brought to Japan by Hatsu's time, but it sounds like they weren't common in cuisine yet, so I think it's plausible she wouldn't have had them.


End file.
